


Twinkle Lights

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Futurefic, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-31
Updated: 2003-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex questions.  Bruce answers.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Twinkle Lights

## Twinkle Lights

by Sidhe

[]()

* * *

These twinkling lights were all over Gotham, like the once-a-year application of holly, pine wreaths, and those fucking lights would change Gotham from a dark stone monstrosity into a Christmas wonderland. They didn't. Certainly not when smashed into Lex's right cheek or twinkling merrily not two inches from his eyes. They didn't soften the look of the twelve-foot long stone fireplace he was pressed against, they didn't make the rough slide of Bruce's cock seem more cheerful and less like possession, and they didn't make what he was doing any more palatable. 

Somewhere not too far away in the manor Clark, Lois, and Chloe, were laughing and enjoying the annual Wayne Holiday party while Lex was enjoying the scratchy feel of cut stone on his belly where Bruce ripped open his shirt. Lex had never meant for this to happen, not really. Well, maybe a little. 

Lex hates Gotham. He hates the dark stone that everything seems to be built with, he hates the perpetual cloud that hangs over the place. He prefers Metropolis, with its gleaming glass and steel structures that glow brightly even in the worst snowstorm. Metropolis helps veil the darkness that lies just below the surface of Lex's skin. Here the darkness outside magnifies the shadows inside until they linger on Lex's skin like an especially sticky sheen of sweat. A sweat like the one that is making the vestiges of his silk shirt cling to his back. He really likes this shirt but it isn't going to make it through the encounter. 

* * *

From the moment Lex walked in the palatial entry hall to be greeted by the supposedly dissolute playboy Bruce Wayne he felt somehow assaulted by the man. In the thirty seconds it took Bruce to cross the entry hall, shake his hand, and say in that falsely chipper and slightly vague voice, "Call me Bruce," Lex had come to two conclusions: First, he hated Bruce Wayne, and second, he had to have him. The vehemence of his reactions, the hatred and the aching desire, came as a shock to him. Even for Lex it had been an especially visceral reaction for having just met the man. But then Lex had never been one for analyzing his feelings too deeply; he was more likely to act on them impulsively. The following week proved no different. 

In the few days leading up to the final party, Lex was like a madman. He dogged Bruce's steps. Every time Bruce turned around, Lex was there. Every time he entered a room Lex was waiting for him. If not for the verbal knives Lex continually threw at him, the logical conclusion would have been that the bald billionaire had a crush. However, Lex was vicious. Everything he said was designed to eviscerate. There were times when Clark would have to remove Lex from the room, as Bruce's smile got more and more brittle. Rumors abounded at the week-long house party that Lex hated Bruce. And they were right, but not entirely, and not for the reasons they thought. 

Everyone figured it was Bruce's life style-- jet setting rich boy with no responsibility for his inherited company. They whispered that Lex was resentful. Bruce lived the life that Lex had given up at the age of twenty. He never grew up. It was the life Lex could have led if Lionel wasn't such a bastard. But really Lex couldn't have cared less. 

He cared about the dichotomy of a man who supposedly just came back from a month long vacation in Cancun without a tan to speak of. He cared about a six foot three, 250-pound man who laughs about his own klutziness, but doesn't make a sound walking across a marble floor. For that matter how does a dissolute playboy get to be 250 pounds of muscle? There were two Bruce Waynes. The one that Lex hated instantly and completely because he hid the one Lex wanted, the one lurking below the surface. Lex wanted to see that sticky sheen on Bruce's skin. The only way that was possible was by cutting off the fake, piece by piece, until the real Bruce welled over for Lex to see. Would it look clear, like the shiny glistening sweat that covered Lex, or would it be darker, like blood staining pale skin? 

At the closing party, Lex was in rare form. He lost all subtlety in his attack; he said anything to get a rise. Clark thought he was drunk, which suited Lex, as it gave him an excuse if anyone asked about his behavior later. In truth he had been nursing the same glass of brandy for three hours. A clear head was required when working on your last chance to dissect someone-- even after you've thrown down your scalpel in favor of a sledgehammer. 

The tide shifted for Lex with a simple introduction that wasn't even for him. 

"Clark, this is my ward Tim Drake." 

"Another one, Bruce?" Lex said. "I would have thought you'd give up on these 'wards' when you let the last one die." 

The sound of the crystal champagne glass snapping in Bruce's fist seemed unnaturally loud in the wake of Lex's words. He couldn't repress his smirk when Bruce took one threatening step toward him. The expressionless sharp eyed man in front of him bore no resemblance to the inane smiling fool Lex had been subjected to for the last week. Before he could properly meet the man he had been digging for, Clark, ever the hero, decided that Lex needed saving and ushered him out of the party. The younger man pushed Lex into a dark empty room with a hasty command to stay put as he ran out to fix Lex's mess. Lex walked over to the big stone fireplace, brandy glass still in hand, and stared into the cold hearth. 

* * *

Lex discovers that he likes Bruce's skin. It is paler than even his own fair skin. It is the skin of someone who has never been out in the sun. The hand seems to glow iridescent as it slips across Lex's abdomen, under the open shirt to grip him closer. There would be bruises in the morning, but it isn't worth caring about now, not when Bruce is shifting so that every thrust hits him just right, not when Bruce is licking at his throat like he wants to swallow him whole. Lex lets his head fall back to allow better access and there they are. The ceiling is full of those twinkling Christmas lights. Each fluttering light in some random pattern, childlike and cheerful, over mythic gray stone. Beautiful. Useless. Lex is transfixed, but just for a moment. 

The bite is shocking. It isn't a gentle lover's bite but then the real Bruce isn't gentle. Lex feels his skin breaking, the warm blood soaking into silk. There's no way he can hold back his cry or the burst of pre-cum weeping from his dick. 

"No you don't, Lex." Even the voice is different. Intense, hot, and sharp like a fine whiskey. "You're mine now. Stay with me." 

As if Lex could go anywhere with Bruce pulling down his shirt and tux jacket, trapping his arms to his side. The feel of the big man licking blood from the wound he created causes Lex to shudder. Hard. Another addition to his nearly unmanageable list of kinks. He doesn't know if that is a good or bad thing. Of course with Bruce sucking at the juncture between his neck and shoulder like the most sensual kind of vampire and hitting his prostate hard, true, and often...well he is impressed that he remembers his own name. 

He is so close now he just needs...something...more. Lex's hips move of their own accord brushing the tip of his cock against the cold, uneven stone, but that gives him only a fraction of the pressure he needs. Bruce is ever watchful and slips one of his sunless hands down Lex's belly, across the smooth expanse of skin to cup the place Lex needs him most and holds him. But nothing else. 

Lex chokes off a frustrated scream in the back of his throat as his hips pump harder into Bruce's loose hold. The dark one simply laughs. 

"Not yet Lex. When the time comes I want you to break. And I want to see it." 

* * *

When Bruce came into the room, mere moments after Clark exited, Lex knew. Even though there was no sound to announce him and Lex was still facing the cold fireplace. 

"Hello, Bruce." Lex let the triumph slip into his voice as he greeted him. 

"Lex." A brief instant of shock flashed through Lex. He turned quickly to face the man who stood directly behind him instead of across the room where he should have been. 

Lex smirked to cover his disadvantage. "I'm surprised to see you here. Shouldn't you be back at the party pretending to drink yourself into a stupor?" 

The dark one took a single step that firmly entrenched him into Lex's personal space, setting off a million years worth of primal fight or flight instincts. However, Lex had 36 years of Luthor training that compelled him to hold his ground. He raised his chin a notch and tilted his head just so. It was a look that managed to mock without words. Lex perfected it for years on Lionel. It never failed to get a rise out of Lionel, but Bruce just smiled. 

"I'm tired of listening to you talk, Lex." He took another step forward, forcing Lex back against the fireplace. 

"Fuck yo-" Lex was cut off as a powerful hand gripped the column of his throat effectively restricting his airflow. 

"Enough." Bruce leaned in and licked a wet strip across the faded scar. "You don't know what this is about, do you? You don't know what you're looking for yet you continue to dig." 

Bruce pressed in closer still until all Lex could feel was the stone at his back and the length of Bruce trapping him. The only thing Lex could do was gasp for the precious air that the bigger man allowed him, all of his control taken away, even the ability to breath. The brandy glass fell out of Lex's slowly weakening hand, the shattering sound never occurred. There was only the soft thunk of Bruce setting the glass on the mantle. Lex's eyes widened than narrowed on the man in front of him. The hand on his throat tightened just a little. 

"You're still questioning." Bruce said with a touch of wonderment. "Can I really be angry with you because you see what's in front of you? I also question, Lex. It's the reason I haven't dealt with you before now. But I've learned a lot and I'm going to help you understand." 

When Bruce released his throat Lex opened his month to suck in air only to have it cut short as Bruce's mouth swooped down on him. He didn't so much explore Lex's mouth as he plundered every corner. Still, Lex was far from passive. He gave back with interest, he pushed his tongue into Bruce's mouth and licked the sensitive palate until Bruce writhed under his more delicate touch. 

Bruce broke off the kiss, his head falling back as he panted. Lex dived into his exposed throat, licking at his Adam's apple and the square jaw that was already growing a slightly rough shade of hair. Bruce pushed Lex back just enough tear open the smaller man's shirt. His rough hands ran over hairless skin before being replaced with Bruce's mouth. Lex arched into the scrape of Bruce's teeth over his ribs and cried out when those teeth closed over a sensitive nipple. 

Lex let his eyes fall shut in anticipation as he watched this proud man slip to his knees in front of him. What he got was a soft schlick sound and the feel of cold metal slipping into his waist band. He held his breath and opened his eyes to stare directly into amused midnight orbs as Bruce cut through his belt, pants, and underwear. The sliced clothes pooled at his ankles leaving his engorged cock open to Bruce. 

Lex clenched his hands into fists as Bruce moved forward and hovered just centimeters away from where Lex wanted him most. Finally, Bruce opened his mouth to lick the moisture from Lex's slit and then blew on him. Lex reached to grab him but suddenly Bruce was gone and the room was spinning. Lex nearly fell over the pants tangled around his ankles before his face was pressed into the fireplace and Bruce was at his back laughing softly in his ear. He struggled briefly, knocking his brandy glass and a small black remote control off the mantle. Bruce subdued him with humiliating ease. 

"Did you think this would be easy, Lex?" he whispered in Lex's ear as he placed the brandy glass back on the mantle and the dark room lit up with cheerful Christmas lights. 

* * *

The world's axis seems to tilt as Bruce lifts Lex, laying him flat on his back in the middle of the floor. It is too quick. The world is going by in strange colors and twinkling shadows. Bruce rests Lex's legs against his shoulder while Lex takes the moment Bruce is positioning himself to find his breath and his bearings. The moment is short-- Bruce is already pushing in. Unlike the first time Bruce entered him, this time Lex doesn't even get the dubious comfort of spit to slick his entrance. Just an invasive push until Bruce is buried balls deep. Lex screams...in pain? In pleasure? He isn't sure with his body arching up and twisting to meet each thrust. He quickly clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip to stop the screaming but that doesn't stop the sound just muffles it into something desperate and pathetic. 

Lex bites his lip even harder and turns his head into the carpet. He reaches for himself just wanting this to end but his clothes still trap him making his reach fall short. 

"Soon, Lex." Bruce's voice is ragged now. His thrusts are losing rhythm, starting to stutter, he's not nearly so unaffected as he seems. But Lex can't take pride in that now, not when his whole body feels like it's glowing with pent up desire and he's so close he can see his own orgasm on the horizon but just...can't...reach it! 

Bruce head flew up for a moment his eyes trained on the doorway for an instant before he began to pound Lex. "Now, Lex. Now." 

There was nothing Lex would like more but he needs something else, just a touch. But now he hears it. In the distance, but getting closer. 

"Lex." 

It's Clark, calling him. His dick surges at the sound of his best friends voice, his body in thrall at hearing that voice while feeling this sensation. No, not this. Grey-blue eyes crash into the midnight blue pair above them and know immediately that this is planned. 

"Come on, Lex." Clark is right outside the door. "Bruce is nowhere to-Oh, Lex..." 

Unable to control his reaction to that voice, Lex explodes, still biting back his screams. His body spasms for what seems like forever, emptying a never ending stream onto his chest and stomach, finally dragging Bruce over the edge with him. 

Bruce is up straightening himself before Lex finishes trembling. Though Lex isn't sure he will ever stop trembling. When exactly had fifteen years of friendship degenerated into this hatred and resentment? 

"Now you understand." Bruce says while tugging his jacket back into place. "Like I said I question too. While you watched me, I watched you...and him. What I don't understand is how you stopped yourself from questioning him all these years. Its in our very nature to investigate these things, I couldn't have stopped myself. I won't stop myself." 

Their eyes drift to the door that Clark knew not to enter but never opened. Bruce walks over to Lex and crouches down before him. "This has never been about me. You don't even know me. Its about him." 

Bruce runs a thumb across Lex's chin, wiping away the blood that is still weeping from his bottom lip. "Go clean up. I'll give my guests your apologies" 

At the door, Bruce takes a minute to straighten his tie. He turns back to Lex and smiles. "Good-bye, Lex." 

Just that easily Bruce Wayne is back, an inane smile to cover the dark wraith living beneath the skin. As Bruce walks back out to the party, Lex lays on the floor watching the twinkle lights make twisting shadows over his skin. Still curled in his own sweat and semen Lex comes to terms with the fact that his need to know Bruce, to hurt him, came from one simple thing. 

His similarity to Clark. 


End file.
